


First Date

by orphan_account



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Humour, socially awkward hardy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardy takes Miller on their first date. The only problem is, he's not entirely sure if Miller realises it's a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Date

After a month away, Hardy returned to Broadchurch to visit Miller. She was brighter than when he’d last seen her, less hollowed out. Even though Joe was free, he was at least far away from her and she seemed to be rebuilding her life well.

He was sitting in her kitchen, balancing baby Fred on his lap and trying to conduct a conversation with her through the walls of the house while she looked for a photograph upstairs. Fred pulled on his whiskers as he chattered aimlessly about all the things he had done with Daisy the previous week. Occasionally, Miller shouted questions at him, which assured him she could still hear him.

‘Couldn’t find the photos,’ she said as she walked back down the stairs. ‘It’s a shame – Fred looked so cute in that outfit. Nevermind, though.’

She had something else clutched in her hand. Hardy craned his neck over Fred’s head and saw it was a pair of earrings. To his surprise, Miller walked directly to the bin and motioned as if she were going to toss them in.

‘Are you throwing those out?’ Hardy asked. Fred wiggled in his lap and started an assault on his hair, bunching it in his little fists.

‘Yeah.’ She deposited the earrings into the trash with no further fuss. Hardy was mystified.

‘Why?’

To his eye they had appeared to be real gold with small sapphires set in them. He could not fathom why she was throwing such treasures away.

‘Joe got them for me,’ Miller shrugged, her voice completely neutral. ‘Fifth anniversary present. I used to love them.’ Her gaze lingered on the tiny, glinting spheres in the trash for just a moment. ‘Can’t stand the sight of them now,’ she said, and turned away.

He almost protested that she might at least sell them or give them to someone, but quickly reconsidered the words. They said no more about it and Miller put the kettle on, wittering about how well Tom was doing in school.

But Hardy could not get the incident out of his mind.

-

Early the next day he left the Trader’s Inn to wander fruitlessly through the streets of Broadchurch in search of a jeweller’s. By mid-morning he admitted defeat, swallowed his pride and went to see Maggie and Olly at the newspaper to ask where he might find one. Olly grinned cheekily and asked why he was looking for one. Hardy mumbled something about needing his watch fixed while Maggie directed him to a place down a back alley near the harbour, adding that there was a larger one the next town over. Thanking her, and determinedly avoiding Olly’s gaze as he tugged his shirtsleeve to cover his fully-functioning watch, he left to find the first establishment.

After many wrong turns, he came to the dreary little place. It was nothing like the brightly-lit, palatial jewellery store he’d hoped for, the kind one might see in London. There were boots piled high in the window, which told him it doubled as a cobbler’s, and a cat was sitting in the doorway coughing up a furball. Gingerly stepping over the moth-eaten feline, he went inside and discovered the place was more suited to alterations and repairs, though it did have a small glass cabinet full of pretty trinkets that he immediately gravitated to.

‘Lookin’ for summat for your missus, eh?’ the fat, balding shopkeeper said.

Hardy found he did not have the confidence to reply in either the affirmative or the negative. With a non-committal grunt, he pointed at a small pair of earrings and said, ‘Show me those.’

The shopkeeper belched and pulled them out. Hardy handled them delicately. Satisfied that Miller would like them, he assented to the purchase with a nod and left with them neatly packaged in his pocket.

As he headed back to his hotel room, the conviction that he had made the wrong choice began to oppress him more violently with every step he took. Waiting until he arrived in his room, he discreetly undid the wrapping, looked upon them once more and immediately decided they would not do at all. Bundling them up, he went back to the store, only to find when he got to the step that he was too embarrassed to go in and cause further trouble. An ashamed blush coloured his cheeks and he hailed a cab to go to the next town over.

He found the jewellery store Maggie had mentioned quite easily. Red and white banners hung gaily out the front and paper love hearts festooned the interior, proclaiming that Valentine’s Day was imminent. Hardy stared silently at the banners for a long moment, his mind ticking over. Then a young Welsh woman with a large gap between her front teeth approached him and asked if she might be of assistance. With her guidance, he bought another, more satisfactory pair at a far advanced price, asked if they would pawn the other ones, was refused, and went on his way. As he contemplated what to do with the superfluous pair, he thought about giving them to Daisy, then found himself overcome with guilt that he could consider foisting a second-hand gift onto his precious daughter. Swallowing his pride, he slunk back into the jewellery shop, was greeted with a rather less enthusiastic smile from the Welsh woman, and left a few minutes later with a lovely silver bracelet in tow.

Now satisfied that everything was in order, he called Miller and asked her what she was doing the following day.

‘Working late,’ came the reply. ‘But it might work out. Luce gets the boys on Fridays, so if I can convince the station to let me go a bit early we’ll have the rest of the night to ourselves. Will seven-thirty be okay?’

Hardy nodded. Then he remembered he was on the phone and vocalised his assent with a grunt.

-

He arrived at Miller’s house at precisely 7.28 P.M wearing a crisp suit and bearing wine, flowers and chocolates in his arms. Straightening his shoulders, he held his head high and breathed deeply before knocking on the door.

Miller opened it almost at once. She was wearing jeans, pink fluffy slippers and a bright orange top.

‘Oh,’ she said when she saw him.

‘Here,’ he said gruffly. ‘I got dark chocolates ‘cause I know they’re your favourite. And a merlot. And flowers.’

He thrust them into her arms all at once.

‘You do realise you don’t need to bring this stuff every time I have you over,’ Miller said, her voice muffled from behind the flowers. ‘It’s not like there’s some sign outside my house that says, ‘You may only enter once you have appeased the hostess with three gifts…”’

She backed inside and let him in. He scooted over the threshold and into the kitchen. One hand was sunk deep in his trouser pocket, playing with a small velvet box.

Miller came in after him and managed to rearrange her gifts so she could look at the flowers. ‘You bought me red roses,’ she remarked, smelling them.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Isn’t that… customary?’

She looked confused. ‘Customary when?’

‘It’s Valentine’s Day.’

‘Is it?’

‘You didn’t know?’ he asked, his heart sinking.

‘I completely forgot! I knew it was soon, but I’ve just been so swamped at work... although that does explain why Roxanne got those flowers today. I suppose the florist had nothing but roses, then?’

‘Yeah…’ Hardy began to suspect he and Miller were not quite on the same wavelength.

‘Well, that’s nice. At least someone bought me roses, even if it is my old boss,’ she smiled at him and began ripping into the box of chocolates. ‘These’ve got mint in them,’ she said, examining one. ‘I don’t like mint.’ She ate it anyway. ‘So what are the plans for the evening?’

He perked up a little. ‘Managed to get us a table at Langdon’s.’

‘Langdon’s!’ she exclaimed. ‘What, the posh place up the hill? What’d you go and do that for?’

Her reaction was not encouraging. ‘Thought it’d be nice.’

‘Joe and I went there once years ago,’ Miller went on. She had a bit of chocolate stuck to her front tooth. ‘I got violently ill from the clam chowder and we never went back.’

‘But we have to.'

‘I don’t know. When I say violently, I mean _violently._ It was coming out both ends. I remember sitting on the toilet and vomiting between my legs as it blew out the back region. Chocolate?’ she asked, proffering the box to him.

‘No thank you.’ He looked rather green.

She shrugged and kept eating. ‘I made him promise he’d never take me back after that.’

‘Well maybe if you go with me you’ll get lucky and won’t contract food poisoning.’

She looked unconvinced.

‘Please, Miller. Humour me. I was on the phone for ages to get a table.’

Miller chewed slowly. ‘All right,’ she relented. ‘But if it all goes south, you’re the one who has to clean it up.'

‘I’m sure it will be my pleasure.’

‘Wait here, I’ll go get changed.’

Hardy sat awkwardly at the table and considered the exchange that had just taken place. When he had asked Miller out to dinner on Valentine’s Day, he thought he had made his intentions abundantly clear. Now he was beginning to doubt himself. He was used to Miller’s casual demeanour and the way she always spoke her mind, but there was something in her manner tonight that did not fit with this being a romantic date. Perhaps she thought it was only a catch-up between friends?

He pulled the earring case from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. Ought he just ask her? But what if she thought it _wasn’t_ a date? He’d been nervous enough asking her out in the first place, thinking of what would happen if she refused him. He wasn’t sure he had the courage to face rejection again.

He shuddered and was resolved. He would play it by ear. He would soon work out whether she thought this was a date or not based on how she behaved and how she reacted to his advances.

He was a detective, after all.

Miller came down the stairs in a blue dress and flat, slightly scuffed leather shoes, her orange North Face coat slung over her arm. She’d styled her hair quite nicely and put just a smattering of make-up on. He leapt up at once, banging his knee on the table as he did so.

She looked lovely. Maybe this _was_ a date.

‘Christ, I’ve got such a wedgie,’ Miller exclaimed, picking the back of her dress. ‘I haven’t worn this thing since I had Fred. Guess I still haven’t lost those pregnancy pounds.’ She slapped a hand against her stomach and sucked in.

‘You look nice,’ he told her.

‘There’s a quote for the ages. “Ellie Miller – she looked nice.” You’re rubbish at compliments, have I ever told you that?’

‘You’d look even nicer with these,’ Hardy continued awkwardly, and shoved the jewellery box into her hand.

She took it with surprise. ‘What’s this?’

‘Open it.’

‘No. What is it?’

‘Miller,’ he said. ‘Just open the box.’

She did. Clenching and unclenching his clammy hands, Hardy watched her with trepidation.

‘Oh,’ she said as she pulled the dazzling earrings free. He had chosen a spectacular pair made of gold and set with topaz.

‘Do you like them?’

‘Well – yes, they’re lovely, but why the hell did you buy me earrings?’

‘To replace the other ones. The ones from Joe.’

‘But these must have cost a fortune!’ she protested. ‘No, I’m not taking them. This is stupid.’

‘Try them on.’

‘Did you not hear me? No! I don’t want them.’

‘You said you liked them!’

‘And I do, but -’ She hesitated, and Hardy could see she was genuinely tempted. ‘No, take them away. I’m not letting you spend that kind of money on me.’

‘It wasn’t that much, honestly,’ Hardy lied. ‘I just saw them and remembered how you threw the other ones out so I thought -’

‘Oh, all right then!’ she seized them back greedily. ‘If only to shut you up. But I’m paying for dinner tonight. No arguments.’

She held them up to the light, looking genuinely delighted. Something bloomed within Hardy, and he almost smiled.

‘Try them on,’ he urged.

Tossing her orange coat at him, she ran to the nearest mirror and tried to put them in.

‘Bollocks,’ he heard her say. ‘It’s been too long since I wore earrings – the holes are growing over.’

She made some painful grunting noises. After a minute or two of struggling, while Hardy looked on in with mounting trepidation, she stood up before him.

‘What do you think?’ she asked.

‘Your earlobe is bleeding,' he said.

‘Shit,’ she said. She got a tissue from the counter and dabbed at it. ‘Do you think I can get away with it?’

‘Doesn’t it hurt?’

‘My mother always said beauty is pain,’ she replied.

‘Well. There we are then. Shall we?’

He offered her coat to her. She took it and wrapped it around herself.

‘Thank you, by the way,’ Miller said as they headed towards the door. ‘That was… really nice of you.’

Hardy’s cheeks burned. He grunted a reply.

-

‘Ugh, I hate sitting by the lobster tank,’ Miller said, peering over Hardy’s shoulder at the floating crustaceans. ‘I always feel like they’re looking at me. Judging me with those beady little eyes.’ She narrowed her eyes, as though engaging one in a staring contest.

‘So switch seats with me,’ Hardy said, pushing his chair back.

‘No. I want to face them.’

He gave up with a sigh and opened the menu. Squinting hard at the words, he reached into his pocket and put his glasses on, staring down his nose through the lenses with his mouth slightly open. His expression made Miller smile into her glass of water.

‘Aren’t there any salads?’ he complained.

‘It’s a seafood restaurant.’

‘But surely there’s a salad with a bit of prawn in it or something…’

‘I thought your wonky heart was all fixed? So indulge yourself. Live a little! Buy a lobster!’ She looked at the price and blanched. ‘Actually don’t. If I’m paying, I’m putting a thirty quid limit on your meal. That includes drinks.'

‘Garlic bread it is.’ Hardy folded the menu.

‘There is no garlic bread here. But perhaps I can interest you in lightly toasted crostini topped with cured salmon, ash-infused goat’s cheese, thinly-sliced tomato and a drizzle of olive oil?’

‘It doesn’t say all that.’

‘It does! Look!’

She pointed it out to him.

‘Nine pounds for that?’ he said incredulously.

‘That’s a third of your budget gone.’

A waiter chose that exact moment to glide up behind them. ‘Can I help you, sir? Madam?’

‘Sir here was wondering if you did salads,’ Miller said.

The waiter laughed delicately. ‘No, I’m afraid we don’t. This restaurant celebrates all that the ocean has to offer. We don’t do anything as common as a _salad._ ’

Miller made a face at Hardy behind her hand and a smile tweaked his lips.

‘If sir is interested in a light entrée, perhaps a prawn cocktail?’

‘We’ll take a few more minutes to decide.’ Hardy said abruptly.

The waiter inclined his head and glided away, delicate as an ice skater. Miller giggled.

‘They act so fancy in this place. Just because it’s the only half-posh place for miles, they think they get to act like it’s a Michelin star joint, when I know for a fact their fish isn’t even fresh.’

‘It looked like a nice place when I booked it,’ Hardy said halfheartedly. He was rapidly becoming disenchanted with this restaurant. The carpet was a luxurious red, but it was also scuffed and stained and the gilded paint and wallpaper was peeling badly.

A waiter went past with a tray overloaded with dishes.

‘Ugh, there goes the clam chowder,’ Miller said, pinching her nose. ‘I just got a big whiff. All the memories are flooding back.'

She dry-retched as the waiter set the dishes before a young couple on the table opposite them. ‘And there’s the prawn cocktail,’ Hardy commented. ‘Looks like a prawn pole-dancing on a bit of parsley, doesn’t it? For - how much?’ He looked at the menu. ‘Eight pounds!’

‘I did try to warn you about this place.'

‘You could have warned me a bit harder.’

‘You seemed so set on going, I didn’t want to let you down. And to be fair, me saying I got explosive diarrhoea should have been a big red flag.’

‘You never said explosive.’

‘I totally did!’

Hardy didn’t argue further. Miller peered off towards the kitchen, trying to catch a glimpse of some of the other dishes. Her arm was resting on the table, her hand folded like a pink flower bud across the white linen. Hardy’s scalp prickled as he looked at it, his eyes roaming the freckles spattered up her bare arm and the pretty gold watch glinting on her wrist. He vaguely heard her say something, but all of his attention was focused on her hand. Sitting there on the table. So invitingly.

A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. His fingers twitched and he slid his hand slowly, inexorably along the table. Just as he sprang forward to grab hers, Miller shifted in her seat and pulled it back into her lap.

‘I don’t believe this,’ she said.

Hardy, in mid-lunge across the table, swiftly seized the salt shaker to explain his violent movement and examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Miller nudged him with her foot. ‘Oy, are you listening to me? Look.’

She inclined her head to one side. Hardy followed her direction and saw the couple opposite them were giggling and kissing. The man began feeding the prawn to her.

‘You had to pick Valentine’s Day, didn’t you? Nothing but couples in love as far as the eye can see,’ Miller said, wrinkling her nose.

‘Disgusting,’ Hardy agreed, sweating profusely.

‘Is there anything worse?’

At that moment they heard a shriek of delight and applause from the other end of the restaurant. A man was on one knee before his girlfriend, holding out a ring to her. She accepted it joyfully and threw her arms around him, kissing him passionately.

‘Get a room,’ Miller said, a little too loudly, and Hardy had to shush her.

Their waiter wafted past them, bearing champagne destined for the happy couple.

‘Madam, your earlobe is bleeding,’ he said discreetly as he went past.

‘Bollocks.’ She picked up her embroidered cloth napkin and wiped her ear.

Hardy looked her square in the face.

‘Do you want to go get fish and chips instead?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ she said. Out of spite, she stuffed the thick cloth napkins into her bag before fleeing with Hardy in tow.

‘You’re a cop, Miller,’ he said accusingly as she disappeared before him.

-

‘This is more like it,’ Miller said with genuine satisfaction. They were sitting on the beach, watching the waves foam in the moonlight. The constellations rose dripping from the edges of the horizon, half-hidden by clouds. A greasy bag of fish and chips lay open beside them and Hardy found that he genuinely had to fight to for his share. Miller apparently took no prisoners and showed no mercy when it came to fish and chips.

‘They are good chips,’ he agreed.

‘And you wanted to get _salad_ ,’ she said, the word ‘salad’ rolling off her tongue in much the same way ‘invasive colonoscopy’ might.

‘I am recovering from heart surgery,’ he reminded her.

Miller tucked her hair behind her ear and hugged her orange coat tight around her. It clashed horribly with her blue dress, but Miller was never one to prioritise fashion before warmth. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask,’ she said slowly. ‘How is all that? Is it… fixed?’

‘Pretty much.’ He picked the batter off his cod and ate it delicately. ‘Still get twinges now and then. But it’s getting better every day.’

‘That’s good. Because the other day I was thinking… what I’d do if anything happened to you and… well, I don’t want anything to happen to you. So you better be sure it’s all sorted.’

‘M’ _fine_ , Miller.’

Their fingers touched as they reached for the last chip. Hardy withdrew his hand like lightning and mumbled an apology.

‘It’s okay. You have it,’ Miller said, pushing it towards him.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Course. I ate most of the rest.’

Warily, Hardy ate it. Miller smiled at him and picked at the bits of batter he’d scraped off his cod. He smiled back, hesitantly.

‘You’ve got a great big dollop of sauce on your chin,’ she informed him as she licked her fingers.

‘Do I?’ He rubbed his whiskers.

‘No – over a bit. To the left. The _left._ Oh, here, let me.’

She leaned over and wiped it off with her thumb.

‘Sorry. That’s embarrassing.’

‘I’ve got two boys. I’ve seen worse.’

‘Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.’

She dusted the salt off herself, crumpled the paper into a ball and stood up, extending a free hand to Hardy as she did so. He took it cautiously and she pulled him to his feet. All the blood rushed to his head at once.

‘Thanks,’ he muttered, feeling dizzy as she released his hand.

‘Let’s go for a walk along the cliffs,’ she suggested. ‘You get some great views at night.’

She walked ahead of him, deposited the paper in a nearby bin, and led him towards the cliffs.

‘Isn’t this the way to Jocelyn’s house?’ Hardy squinted around him, slightly disoriented in the darkness.

‘Jocelyn and Maggie’s house now,’ Miller said. ‘Didn’t I tell you? They’ve moved in together.’

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Hardy said. ‘Jocelyn mentioned she was in love with someone. Didn’t realise it was Maggie. I’m glad things worked out. There’s nothing worse than missing the person you’re supposed to be with.’

The wind blew hard and cold, running teasing fingers through Miller’s dark hair. The corners of Hardy’s mouth twitched as he looked at her. With her face lit up by starlight and her body clad in that ridiculous orange coat, she looked like a strange cross between an ethereal figure from a Pre-Raphaelite painting and a traffic cone.

‘Brrr,’ Miller said, shivering. ‘It’s freezing. Wish I’d worn thicker stockings.’

Hardy shrugged off his jacket and went to put it around her shoulders.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, leaping back.

‘You said you were cold.’

‘That’s a suit jacket! It’s not going to help much. And anyway, you need it.’

‘Just take it,’ he said in exasperation.

‘No. Put it back on, you’ll freeze.’

‘Miller. Take the jacket.’

‘No.’

‘Fine,’ he huffed, pulling it back on. She hit him with her handbag.

‘Where do you think you are? In some teen movie?’

‘People do that. It’s chivalrous.’

‘You’re not people.’

He sighed. ‘Tess always used to steal my jacket. Whenever we went to the theatre she’d never wrap up warm enough. Guess its become a reflex.’

‘Well, I’m not your wife. So don’t.’

‘I hated the theatre,’ Hardy rambled on, ignoring her. ‘Always fell asleep. I think stealing my jacket may have been her personal form of revenge.’

‘I feel like you have a lot of pent-up resentment for that woman,’ Miller said. ‘Should we open Pandora’s Box?’

‘No, we absolutely should not,’ Hardy said, withdrawing into his jacket like a hermit crab into its shell.

‘I think it was wrong,’ Miller said after a moment. ‘What she did to you. I like Tess, you know that, but... there’s never an excuse for cheating. Especially not at the time she did. In the middle of an investigation – what, just a few weeks after you’d nearly drowned pulling a little girl out of the water? Pippa, who was the same age as Daisy. That was the time you needed her most and she…’

Miller came to a sudden halt. Hardy stopped next to her, his eyes watering. The salty wind whipped at his face.

‘I always thought you were just a miserable bastard. But going through that would be enough to make anyone go mad.’

Her gaze was fixed on the ground. She thrust her hands deeper in her pockets and started walking again.

‘You’ve been through worse than me,’ Hardy remarked as he followed.

‘And I got through it thanks to you.’

‘You’d’ve been all right on your own.’

‘Maybe. Might’ve taken a bit longer though.’

His face flushed. ‘And I… probably wouldn’t have made it through without you, either. You were… like a lifeline to me for a while, Miller.’

‘Don’t be nice to me. That’s not how it works, remember? We shout and call each other names. That’s our thing.’

‘I never called you names.’

‘Oh. Maybe that was just me.’

She took her hands out of her pockets and stretched her arms, wriggling her cold fingers to get the warmth back into them. Then she walked on with them swinging by her sides. Hardy pricked up at this and followed her a little more closely. Licking his lips, he moved closer until he was in striking distance.

Unfortunately, he did not have the courage to seize her hand outright. Wheeling back again, he changed his strategy and now inched forward by degrees, leaning subtly into her as his fingers just caught at her sleeve.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded when she felt the first tug.

He retreated quickly. ‘Nothing.’

‘Do you need the loo? Fred always does that when he needs a wee. Pulls my sleeve and does his little wee dance. You can go in a bush if you like, I don’t mind. I’ll cover my ears.’

‘No, I don’t -’

‘Or there’s a public toilet just up the hill there,’ she said, pointing. ‘But it’s full of spiders. And teenagers smoking pot. Used to get called out there every other week when I was a beat cop. Been a while since I’ve been there, actually. Let’s check it out!’

She walked more briskly up the hill to show him this exciting Broadchurch landmark.

‘No teenagers,’ she called behind her as she disappeared inside. ‘Lots of spiders, though! Yuck!’

She exited as swiftly as she had entered and looked at him expectantly.

‘I’m not going in there,’ he said gruffly.

‘Then why did you say you needed the loo?’

‘I didn’t… oh forget it.’

As he stomped past the toilet, his ankle turned in a divot and he stumbled into the wall. Throwing out a hand to break his fall, he let out a yelp of pain when his palm collided with a jutting piece of rock.

‘What?’ What is it?’ Miller called. ‘Are you all right?’

‘M’fine. Just cut meself.’

Feeling rather stupid, he cradled his sore hand. Miller whipped out her phone and shone the light onto his injury. ‘It doesn’t look deep,’ she said. ‘Give it a clean. I’ve got just the thing in here.’

Hardy rubbed the cut, picking out the little bits of rock and dirt that had lodged in it. Blood oozed from it, slow and steady.

‘Here,’ Miller said. She handed him one of the napkins she’d stolen from Langdon’s. ‘Press it in. Stop the bleeding.’

He did as he was bid while she continued rummaging through her purse. Finally she just upended it and gave it a shake until a veritable hoard fell out. In the darkness he glimpsed tweezers, a scarf, nail scissors, needle and thread, used tissues and tic tacs go spilling out. Seizing triumphantly on a small box, Miller exclaimed, ‘Jackpot!’

It was a box of children’s bandaids with Thomas the Tank Engine printed on them.

‘I am not putting one of those on,’ he said flatly.

‘It’s all I have. Wear it or bleed. It’s your choice.’

Her tone of voice told him that it was very much _not_ his choice and that she would force it on him either way.

Still, he protested. ‘Look, it’ll be fine. I’ll just -’

‘Hardy,’ she said. ‘Be a man and let me put this Thomas the Tank Engine bandaid on your boo-boo.’

He fixed her with a singularly unamused look, but relented. She gave him the phone and he held the light steady as she opened the band-aid and plastered it on. Then she leaned down and printed a kiss on it and Hardy nearly dropped the phone in shock.

‘There,’ she said. ‘All better.’ She patted his hand and grinned at him. Reading nothing on his face but utter astonishment, she explained, ‘I always kiss the boys’ boo-boos better.’

The offended reaction she was hoping for failed to materialise. Hardy remained rigid, staring at his hand. Shrugging, she stuffed all the various items back into her purse.

‘Come on,’ she said. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Hardy followed. She walked further along the cliffs and came to a halt at a convenient vantage point that looked out across the water.

‘It’s so good to get out,’ she sighed, stretching her arms and breathing in the cold night air. ‘Even just for something like this. We’ve been snowed under at work these last few days. Someone’s been nicking sheep and the farmers are up in arms.’

‘Ahh, the life of a rural DS,’ Hardy said. ‘Local disgruntled farmers. Missing sheep. Never a dull moment.’

‘It was sort of weird, going back,’ she said. ‘I kept thinking you’d be there, somehow.’

‘What’s your new DI like?’

‘Dreadful. Always has a smile on his face. Says ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ every time I come in, thanks me when I leave and – get this – he even remembers his co-workers’ names.’

‘Sounds like a right cock.’

Miller giggled.

‘I’m surprised they didn’t offer the job of DI to you,’ Hardy went on. ‘You’re more than qualified.’

‘Oh, no. After everything that’s happened, I was lucky to get my old job back.’ She put her hands in her pockets and twisted from side to side. ‘I do sort of miss you, you know. I keep expecting to see your grumpy face scowling at me from the boss’ desk. It’s weird dealing with someone who’s friendly and polite all the time.'

‘Miss me?’ He shuffled a little closer to her.

‘I’m glad you came to visit,’ she concluded with a shrug. Then she turned her gaze out to sea. A lighthouse blinked in the distance. ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ she sighed.

‘Beautiful,’ Hardy agreed, and he couldn’t stop himself from stooping to kiss her. Unfortunately, she did not notice his downward trajectory and suddenly tossed her head back, headbutting him in the chin and leaving him with a mouthful of hair.

‘Ow!’ Miller clutched the back of her head.

‘Argh!’ Hardy clapped a hand to his chin, spitting hairs.

‘What the hell was that?’ Miller demanded.

Hardy fumbled for an excuse and found none. He grunted loudly.

'You're in a weird mood tonight,' she said, rubbing her head.

Before she could abuse him further, it started to rain. Hardy squinted at the sky and held his palms upward.

‘Guess that’s our cue to move,' Miller said. 'It was nice while it lasted.’

She started off back to town. Hardy jogged after her. ‘Um. Can I walk you home?’

‘It’s out of your way,’ she said.

‘I don’t mind.’

‘If you want, I won’t stop you.’

The rain came down a little harder, changing from a drizzle to a shower. Hardy sneezed loudly and Miller started rummaging through her bag again.

‘Wait, I think I brought – yes, here it is!’ She produced a small umbrella seemingly out of nowhere.

‘How much stuff have you got in there? You’re like Mary bloody Poppins,’ Hardy remarked.

‘I’m a mum. Got to be prepared for anything.’

She popped it open and covered herself with it. She showed no signs of relinquishing it so Hardy was forced to stoop to get under it with her.

‘Um, Miller,’ he said. ‘D’you think I could hold it?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Because,’ he said patiently, ‘half of my body is not under the umbrella. You’re too short.’

‘Short?’ she echoed, affronted. ‘I’ll have you know I was one of the tallest girls in my year when I was at school.’

‘What bloody school did you go to? Broadchurch school for hobbits? Or are you all just stunted from living here?’ He didn’t mean to snap, but the rain and cold was making him irritable.

‘Someone just lost their umbrella privileges.’

She forced him out of its protection and strode on. Now entirely exposed to the elements, Hardy shivered violently and pulled off his jacket to cover his head. ‘All right!’ he called. ‘M’sorry. You can hold it.’

‘I am not a hobbit.’

‘I didn’t say you were. I said you must’ve gone to school with people who were.’

‘That hardly makes it better!’ But she was not without mercy. ‘Get in.’

Hardy gratefully ducked under again. He could feel his good dress shoes slowly getting ruined by the mud and his crisp, tailored suit was sticking to him in all the wrong ways. But being in such close proximity with Miller meant that he could smell her perfume and feel the warmth radiating off her. His face a stoic mask, his emotions ranging between pleasure and bitter annoyance, he loped alongside her like a hunchbacked lackey.

It wasn’t long before the guilt hit Miller and she handed the umbrella to him with a sigh. ‘You better not let me get wet.’

He took with relief and straightened his back. The shift caused some water to hit Miller and she whined, tucking her hands into her sleeves. ‘Get closer to me,’ Hardy said.

She seemed disinclined to obey him, so he caught her shoulder with one hand and pulled her close. The gesture irritated her but she didn’t fight it. Pressed close against him, their legs moving in tandem, they made good time and were soon on the streets of Broadchurch once more.

Hardy left his hand on her shoulder, just for good measure.

-

When they reached Miller’s house they were both were cold and miserable. Hardy shook off the umbrella on the step while Miller opened the front door.

‘So… are you staying at the Trader’s tonight?’

‘Mm.’

‘And how are you getting there? Are you going to walk?’

A nod.

‘In this weather?’

‘Be fine. Walk’ll be good.’

‘Look, you might as well just stay here tonight. Both the boys are at Lucy’s so it won’t be a problem.’

‘You want me to… stay over?’

‘Why not? We’ve done it before.’

‘Aye, but…’

‘Come on, say yes. I need to get you out of those wet clothes.’

Hardy sputtered. ‘Wait - when you say you want me to stay over, do you mean…’

‘I mean get your arse in here, it’s too cold to argue.’

Hardy nodded quickly and followed her inside, accidentally cracking his head on the side of the door in his haste.

‘Oof!’ Miller said, half sympathetic, half-laughing. ‘You ok?’

‘Yep.’ He clutched his head and went into the kitchen.

‘Make yourself at home,’ Miller said, slipping out of her orange coat and laying it on the back of a chair. Hardy pulled his wet shoes and socks off and wiggled the numb digits.

‘I’ll go and find something for you to wear. Put the kettle on in the meantime, will you?’

She disappeared up the stairs. Hardy did as he was bid. He pulled out two mugs and plopped teabags inside them while he waited for the kettle to boil. Then he leaned heavily against the table and ran his hands through his hair. His head was a hive of swarming bees.

Miller was still upstairs by the time the tea was ready, so he carried the cups into the living room and waited for her, fidgeting and tapping his foot.

‘I’m just looking for a spare toothbrush!’ Miller bellowed down the stairs at him. He could faintly hear her rooting around in a cupboard. The sound of bouncing plastic and clattering soap was distinctive.

‘Got it!’

Miller emerged triumphant into the lounge, clad in a hideous, shapeless purple nightie and a dressing gown, clutching a tiny toothbrush in her hand.

‘It’s a kid’s toothbrush, but it’ll do. And I found a spare dressing gown too!’

She threw something soft at his head and he only just managed to raise a hand in time to stop it from hitting him square in the face. Hot tea slopped onto his pants as he wrestled the bathrobe away from his face.

‘Oops! Sorry. I didn’t realise you were holding your drink.’

‘S’fine. Only a little spill.’ He rubbed at the stain on his pants.

‘Nicked that from a hotel,’ Miller said proudly as she flopped onto the couch next to him. ‘I got it for Joe, but he never wore it. It’s practically like new.’

‘Mm.’ He nodded and made a show of patting the material to show his appreciation.

‘Should make you more comfortable. I’d give you pyjamas instead, but I threw out all of Joe’s other clothes and you’d look a bit daft in one of my nighties.’

Wordlessly, he handed the cup to her. She took it with a murmur of thanks and took a sip. ‘Cor. Bit strong.’

She took the teabag out and placed it on top of an old magazine. Hardy watched as the moisture distorted the features of the woman on the magazine, melting her into a horrifying blob. Strangely, Hardy felt himself empathising with her.

‘Miller – there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ he said. He gripped his mug hard to stop his hands from trembling. ‘Was tonight… was this a d-’

‘Hang on, just a minute,’ Miller said. She was playing with her phone. ‘I’m checking in with Luce. Want to make sure the boys are all right.’ She finished the text and turned back to him. ‘Sorry. What were you saying?’

‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

‘You might as well get changed now,’ Miller said. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her dressing gown and took a gulp of tea. ‘No sense sitting there shivering.’

‘Right.’ Hardy set down his mug and left the room with the bathrobe. He changed quickly in the next room over.

‘My slippers are in the hall,’ Miller called. ‘You can put them on if you like.’

Hardy looked at the bright pink monstrosities. His heart sank, but although his manly pride said no, his freezing feet said yes. Stripping off his jacket and shirt, he left his trousers on for decency’s sake, pulled the thick dressing gown around him, stuck the slippers on his feet and went back into the lounge.

‘Looking good,’ Miller grinned. ‘You can hang your wet clothes up over there.’ Her phone dinged and she looked at it. ‘Ah. That’s lovely. Fred’s sound asleep and Tom’s kicking Olly’s butt on the Xbox. All’s right with the world.’ She smiled up at Hardy and he smiled awkwardly back. ‘Tonight’s been a good night. Thanks.’

‘Yep,’ was the only reply Hardy could muster.

‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic.’

She went into the kitchen and returned with the velvet box. She removed her scintillating earrings with two sharp hisses of pain and replaced them in the box.

‘Ouch,’ she said. Her earlobes were very red.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ She rubbed them gingerly. ‘Bit sore. Worth it, though. They’re lovely.’ She closed the box and set it reverently on the table. ‘Listen, I was going to set up the fold-out for you, but I can’t be bothered now. Why don’t you just sleep in my bed for tonight?’

Hardy, who was draining the last of his tea, choked and sent the liquid spraying back into the mug. Coughing loudly, he echoed, ‘Stay in your bed?’

‘Might as well.’

Two years of heart arrhythmia had not played as much havoc with his ticker as this single hellish night of mixed signals. ‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, putting down his cup and stuffing his hands into his pockets. ‘Might as well. Be easier, right?’

She delicately finished the rest of her tea before she picked up the velvet box and headed up the stairs. ‘Coming?’

Looking very much like a frightened hedgehog caught in the glare of a headlight, Hardy vacillated for a moment before following her.

They brushed their teeth together. Miller insisted on chattering while she brushed, which meant white foam hit him in the face a few times. Wiping it dully from his cheek, he rinsed his mouth as Miller slipped into the bedroom. She placed her earrings on the bedside table with the box open so she could look at them. Taking off her dressing gown, she got into bed and sat up waiting for him, massaging her sore earlobes as she did.

Hardy splashed his face with cold water and dried off before haltingly approaching the bed. He patted one of the pillows and nodded once. ‘So I’ll just… get in. To this bed.’

He nodded again and took his gown off. He went to grasp the sheets but Miller denied him.

‘Stop. You are not getting into bed with those wet trousers on.’

‘You want me to take my trousers off?’ Alarm bells rang in his head.

‘I don’t want you funking up my sheets.’

‘Okay.’ His voice sounded faint, even to his ears.

‘You are wearing pants underneath?’ Miller said suspiciously. ‘You’re not a… what’s the word? Freeballer? Is that what they call it or did I make that up?’

‘I assure you I am not freeballing,’ Hardy said. ‘I am wearing boxers.’

‘Just checking.’

He unzipped his fly. Miller was staring at him.

‘D’you mind?’

‘Preserving your maidenly modesty?’ she teased.

‘Trying to.’

She rolled over and closed her eyes.

Hardy removed his wet trousers and laid them over a chair. Still feeling like this was a trap, he carefully pulled back the covers of the bed and edged himself between the sheets.

‘Oh my God!’ Miller exclaimed.

‘What? What, I’m sorry!’ Hardy scrambled back from the bed at once.

‘It’s past eleven! I can’t believe how late it’s got.’ She was playing with her phone again. ‘Well don’t just stand there. Are you getting in or not?’

‘Yes,’ Hardy said. ‘I am… getting into this bed. With you.’

He peeled back the sheets once more and was pleasantly surprised when Miller made no demands that he sleep on the outside of the covers instead. He slipped in next to her and wiggled into a comfortable position.

‘Good?’

He grunted. Miller replaced her phone on the bedside table.

‘I’ll get the light.’

She flicked the lamp off and darkness and silence descended instantaneously.

‘Miller,’ Hardy said awkwardly after a few moments. ‘I know this may seem a strange question, seeing as we are in bed together and -’ he paused to swallow ‘- nearly naked, but I have to ask. Was this… a romantic… date?’

The silence that followed seemed to go on for an eternity.

‘ _What?’_

He cringed.

‘Was it _supposed_ to be a date?’ she demanded.

‘Sort of,’ Hardy said. ‘Yeah.’

Miller sat up and turned the light back on. ‘You took me out for _chips_ ,’ she said, scandalised.

‘I took you to Langdon’s!’ he said, sitting up with her. ‘I only bought you fish and chips because you seemed so ill-at-ease there.’

‘Because I thought you just wanted a nice get-together between friends! Why the hell would I think you’d want to ask me out?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘No! No it bloody isn’t obvious if I only find out I've been shanghaied into a date _after_ it’s already happened.’

Miller got out of bed and began pacing the room in agitation, pressing her fingers to her temples. Finally she stopped and looked straight at him. Hardy shrank guiltily where he sat.

‘So… when you called me up the other day… that was you asking me out?’

He made a noise that she took as an affirmative answer.

‘And the flowers, the chocolates, the wine – the _earrings,_ ’ she punctuated this by pointing at the box on her bedside table. ‘You got those because you thought this was a date?’

‘Why else did you think I got them?’

‘I thought that was you being your weird self! I never thought – I couldn’t let myself believe that _you…_ ’

She started pacing again, clutching at her hair. Forgetting his near-nakedness, Hardy threw back the covers and went over to her. ‘Miller, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s fine. We can go back to how things were before. No harm done.’

She looked him in the eye and his earnest expression calmed her down almost at once. She took her hands away from her temples and nodded.

Then her gaze slipped lower.

‘Oh my God,’ she said.

White-hot panic flashed through him as he recalled he was in his boxers. He looked down, dreading to see what had caused her outburst.

‘Are those _Batman boxer shorts_?’

Hardy groaned internally. ‘Daisy got them for me,’ he tried to explain. ‘She thought it was cute – you know, Batman, the world’s greatest detective…’

Miller collapsed into a fit of laughter.

‘It’s not funny,’ he huffed.

‘It suits. That’s the thing,’ she gasped. ‘It totally suits you. Brooding in high places. Haunted by a tragic past. The handsome, troubled detective. The dark knight of Broadchurch.’ She cackled at that.

‘Handsome?’ It was the only word he’d heard. He placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head at her. ‘You saying I’m handsome?’

Miller stopped laughing abruptly. ‘What? No! I mean, sort of. In a weaselly, bat-faced sort of way. That’s all I meant.’

‘You think I’m handsome. Admit it.’

‘What is this, an interrogation?’ she demanded.

‘Answer the question, DS Miller.’

Miller’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe it. Was he _teasing_ her? And to add insult to injury, he was teasing her while standing in front of her with naught on but Batman boxer shorts. He took a step towards her, a tiny grin on his stupid face. She retreated, accidentally hit the side of the bed and tumbled backwards onto it.

‘You _like_ me,’ Hardy said.

‘No I don’t!’ Miller’s cheeks glowed as she struggled to sit up. ‘I hate you!’

‘But you think I’m handsome.’ He came closer.

‘God, you are so infuriating!’ She scrambled to her feet and backed away until she hit the bedside table.

‘So are you,’ he rejoined.

They faced off, Miller glaring hard at him. Then her faced flushed crimson and she could not meet his eye anymore. Looking everywhere in the room except at him, she folded and refolded her arms and shifted from one foot to the other.

‘So if… if I did like you - and I’m not saying that I do - but if I did, what… what would happen next?’

‘Well,’ he said, his voice a low rumble as he closed the distance between them. ‘I think that would be up to you.’

She dragged her gaze upward, past his boxers, his hard bronze stomach, his hairy chest and his quivering Adam’s apple until she met his intense brown eyes once more. Her lips parted slightly.

‘Alec,’ she said.

‘Yes?’

‘Kiss me.’

But before he can, she’s kissing him.

-

Later, when they're fucking, she can't help stifling a giggle.

‘What?’ Hardy whispered, immobile above her.

Ellie convulsed with laughter, sending jolts through him where their bodies joined. She covered her face with her arm.

‘What?’ he demanded with increasing exasperation. Perspiration dripped down his forehead.

‘Something my sister said,’ she gasped. Moving her arm away from her face, she looked him dead in the eyes and whispered, ‘ _Harder, Hardy.’_

He groaned. ‘I hate you, Ellie.’


End file.
